


A Warm Blue

by theplotholesmademedoit



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I won't be covering the dental bill, M/M, Sickfic, pure fluff, sorry about your teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplotholesmademedoit/pseuds/theplotholesmademedoit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sick Jim steals Spock's uniform while he waits for his bondmate to return from a mission</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even known where this came from, surely it was not me procrastinating doing my pre-calc homework. Pure teeth-rot h/c fluff with next to no plot. Not my best work by a long run, not polished or beta'd just a little something a wanted to get down.
> 
> I really know how to sell it.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also could be TOS or reboot, but I had reboot in my head when I wrote it.

Jim is mostly positive science uniform shirts are softer than comand ones.

Well-Spock's certainly is.

He swishes his stomach against thin fuzz line of his bondmate’s blue shirt and burrows further under the covers. He attempts to inchworm down so only the yellow tufts of his bedhead poke out onto the pillow, but all that accomplishes is colder feet and a coughing fit.

Jim groans and wishes he could smell because he's sure Spock's scent from his uniform and the blankets of their bed would do wonders for the burn in his lungs. With sniff he tugs the too long sleeves of Spock's shirt over his fist and tries to suppress his current patheticness.

It's unsuccessful.

He feels a little bad actually, about how he's abusing Spock's uniform. He's been using the elbow to trap his coughs and swiping his incessantly drippy nose on the hem when rolling over to get a tissue seems far too much effort. Spock's shoulders are broader than Jim's and he's taller, but the set of Jim's ribs in wider so it's getting stretched around the middle. But it's 10 o'clock, Jim's sick, alone and only gives a half a shit. Tops.

Jim _hates_ being sick. Hates it more than tribbles, more than Admiral Stocker's sneer or that one Klingon Captain who keeps coming back for more.

It makes Bones confine him to bed rest and prick him with hypos every goddamn hour, has him in constant discomfort he finds harder to tolerate than pian. But most of all it makes him useless. He can't stand not being able to do anything, but he knows even if he tried to tiptoe to the captains chair, the puffs balls in his head would get him before he reached the holo-deck.

It's not so bad when Spock's around to fuss over him like a mother hen hopped up on all the steroids in the galaxy. Or maybe he's more like your run of the mill mother sehalt, whom as far as Jim can tell have the hens looking negligent. The way Spock gets this little dip between his eyebrows when Jim so much as sneezes and checks his temperature every five minutes half drives him crazy and half makes him feel stupidly mushy and loved. Especailly since his mom was gone a lot as a kid and Sam ran away and Bones' idea of comfort is a hypo to the neck, so no one ever really took care of Jim untill Spock.

But Spock had to beam planetside to meet with Erros's government. He'd left Jim with a reluctant kiss on the forehead this morning and Jim hasn't heard from him since noon. This lack of communication may or may not have been caused by Scotty disconnecting his comn device to the bridge because he'd insisted on bothering the acting captain for status updates three times an hour.

Jim would be ecstatic to have Spock here even if it meant several rounds tug-a-war with a thermometer and being force fed soup. He can feel the thrum of Spock's mind in his own. But everything aches and everywhere from his toes to cheeks is frozen and what wouldn't he give to be cuddled into his warm Vuclan's chests and obsessively tended to right now.

He would give his right eye, as the sharp throb that has been pulsing behind it for an hour now is something he would quite gladly be rid of. Just as he’s debating stumbling out of bed to locate a knife and summon various deities, he hears the swoosh the door.

He very nearly cries in relief.

Spock must sense that because before Jim is finished turning on his back, one of those warm hands is stroking along his forehead and back through his hair. The other hand comes up, so Jim’s face is cradled between Spock’s palms. Spock kisses both of Jim’s fluttering eyelids, then molds his lips very lightly to Jim’s.

“Hey,” Jim croaks with a smile as Spock pulls away, “How’d the mission go?”

Spock moves to knead softly around the base of his skull, which miraculously sucks the tension away from his eye.

“There were no incidents worth noting, other than Chekov and Lt. Sanders being discovered very enthusiastically sharing saliva behind a palace drape," this earns a chuckle from Jim, "It is well my T’hy’la, now rest, I will join you shortly.”

When he leaves Jim is sorely tempted to drag Spock down fully dressed and refuse to move from his lap.

The chime of Spock’s mental laughter sounds in their bond, _That is unnecessary. I will be there in less than 1.24 minutes._

_Hurry._

Jim shoves open a bleary eyelid so he can watch Spock walk to bed wearing only in his black boxer briefs. Maybe if-

_You have not slept today. There will be time for that when you are recovered._

_Bossy._

_Indeed._

Spock slides in beside him, locking Jim in his arms so his head is wedged under Spock’s chin. Jim is instantly warm and all the aches fizzle into vague twinges. He exhales, pushing his face into Spock’s neck and burowing closer.

“I missed you,” comes the understatement of the century.

“And I you Aashayam,” Spock says, kissing the crown of Jim’s head, “That is an interesting choice of attire.”

“Oh shut up you smug Vulcan, it smelled like you, ok.”

“You are not currently capable of smelling.”

“Well it’s softer than mine.”

“Illogical, as their only difference is in color and size.”

Spock’s fingers are tracing spirals into his lower back and Jim cannot find it in him to continue sparring. He coughs once and tries to speak, but is silenced with a kiss.

“I love you too my Jim. Sleep well.”

Jim grins and lets his muscles ease to putty in Spock’s grip.

 _I will now_.

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello. Not sure this is worthy of my beg for reviews speel, but if you want to give one, that would be great. :) Or just kudos, or nothing, this is just a tiny brain baby.


End file.
